In the first compartment, Seth and Harriet Dingwall stumbled against each other as the train started, dropping an armload of toiletries.

"Oh for God's sake! Look out, Harriet." Seth bounced off the lavatory door and clutched at the overhead berth for support.

"It wasn't my fault. The train started." She knelt down and began gathering up the spilled articles.

"Goddamn trains. Goddam trip. Bloody waste of time the whole thing."

"That's horrible, Seth. After what that beast did to Rainey..."

"Goin' to watch this ain't gonna bring her back. I could be workin'."

"Well you should have stayed then. You didn't have to come you know. It was just the hint of maybe getting some compensation that brought you here. Rainey was my niece, not yours."

He threw her a dirty look and tossed the stuff he was still holding onto the bed. "I'm goin' to see if there's a bar on this thing." He stepped around her and out the compartment door.

"Seth!" Harriet watched him weave down the corridor and around the corner before slowly closing the door and leaning heavily against it. Rainey had been her last remaining blood relative in the country and as a result the pair had enjoyed a steady contact through correspondence and an occasional visit. Seth hated the idea, complaining that it was just another mouth to feed and was adamantly against Harriet's suggestion that Rainey might come to live with them.

When Harriet received the news of her murder, she fell under her doctor's care for nearly a month, her depression so deep the doctor feared it might be permanent and when the announcement came that the killer had been caught, Harriet emerged with a strange sense of calm and determination.

Without informing her husband, she set about making inquiries through several agencies for information on compensation and was approached by an official sounding man claiming to be a Victim's Advocate who suggested to her the possibility of some tangible kind of justice, aside from the actual execution of the killer.

Harriet cleaned up the rest of the mess and organized the compartment for their three-night journey. She slipped out of her dress and corset and squeezed into the tiny lavatory to wash and refresh. The mixed images of Rainey's death, as described by the doctors, buzzed behind her eyes and she fumbled in her purse for her medication. Her husband's refusal to grant Harriet's wishes left her with a heart full of anger and blame for what happened to her niece. She felt the medicine calm her mind and she went about plotting her schedule.

******

James Howden had been more than keen to follow up on the inquiry and only too pleased to help the attractive aunt. With his first client in place he set about seeking any other interested relatives of the killer's crimes. After readily suggesting that by pursuing some kind of recompense as a united group the action might possibly result in financial gain, it became clear that the several others he located were indeed interested and he artfully began campaigning on their behalf as one.

Of course, as he pointed out with a sympathetic shrug, it would mean awarding him a modest amount for the necessary lobbying and paperwork that would be required.

The relatives accepted the terms, considering their share of his token would be spread across the entire settlement therefore leaving plenty for all. James wasn't as complacent and made entreaties to the group for advances to cover his mounting costs. As well, he began a subtle maneuvering around his first client, Harriet Dingwall.

James Howden might have appeared to be advocating for the victims, and he thought he would try, why not if there were a remote chance of collecting something, but if compensation were limited it would be limited to him. James was not altruistic—nor was he really a representative from the government.

Penny Hatcher poked at her crown of golden hair as she listened to the ruckus from the next compartment. Her arrival was less of an event than she anticipated, aside from the groveling reception from James Howden who no doubt looked at her and saw dollar signs, and the usual heavy breathing from the various men. She knew the types all too well. While some of the others recognized her there was none of the fawning she expected and usually received.

Penelope Hatcher had graced many a stage from one coast to the other and was acknowledged as one of the leading performers in the country, an achievement all the more remarkable considering her relatively young age; it was disconcerting that with surprisingly, so many interesting looking men, none had risen to afford her the usual attention.

She had noticed right away that the Dingwalls, her neighbours, were not the world's happiest couple and the scowling she'd witnessed on the platform had graduated to the noisy arguing she'd just witnessed. There was a loud slam and the ruckus stopped; Penny guessed that one or the other had left. The mirror over her sink had a dark spot right where her face reflected and she hissed with annoyance as she tried to inspect her appearance.

As a well-known stage performer, Penny rarely if ever went about in public without a complete application of makeup. The silly part was, she was quite pretty without most of it but could not be convinced and so a good portion of each day was spent redesigning and sculpting the face that the world saw on stage. On the bunk was an open cosmetic box, filled with more powders and paints than the average apothecary and she began the meticulous procedure of touching up.

The death of her uncle and brother at the hands of Otis Devlin, while a shock and a tragedy, meant very little to Penny. The uncle was from her mother's side and considered by most of the family to be a black-hearted scoundrel. He was partnered with another man, also a victim, on a horse ranch and had little or no contact with the rest of the family. Her brother was an aimless, no good fop, selling whatever he could to get by, including himself. The young, single, female victim was probably the only reason he was even in the store at the time.

Penny found little emotional duress over the loss of either but James Howden's suggestion of a possible windfall did provide some emotional stimulus, that and the fact that he seemed so enraptured just by her presence, boded well for possibly avoiding any payment she might incur on his behalf. Penny was never above using her wiles or notoriety for personal gain and the additional money would be handy... very handy.

She fluffed her cloud of hair out around her face and turned side-to-side studying the effect before gathering up her handbag and leaving to find the lounge car.